unwritten poem

Let us go and read poems

It is late and I imagine dialoguing with you in syllables

And the filament of memory is slightly burnt out

And I can only see remember half of you

Let us go and read some poems without feeling guilty

For skipping a few

Their authors probably expected this

And will forgive this lively act of rebellion

I imagine you in the warm light of a borrowed lamp

Wearing my white blouse with long sleeves like a shroud

With your hair smelling of damp clay

And your eyes heavy from sleep

And I would love to read you many poems

But you are the most beautiful unwritten poem

And all I dare do is imagine a dialogue with you

Fearing to write you down.